


Flipping the Switch

by DarkeAngelus



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Cardiff, Classic Captain Jack, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Sexual Tension, Stopwatch, drunk, post s01e08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeAngelus/pseuds/DarkeAngelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto and Jack never seriously talked about the events of S01E04 "Cyberwoman" or the strained exchanges they made that terrible night. It isn't until a few weeks later, while drunk, that the subject is finally settled to Jack's satisfaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flipping the Switch

The perforated corpse of Suzie Costello was just being prepped for cold storage when Ianto Jones made the totally out-of-the-blue innuendo about his stopwatch. 

It was the right thing to say to rouse Jack Harkness from his somber demeanor to something more suited to his usually lascivious nature. He had all sorts of lewd thoughts in mind by the time he excused the team until it was just him and the Welshman alone in his office. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised that Jones only had drinking games in mind. Some silly things he must have learned from his mates in Torchwood London no doubt. While it served to get the pair of them shitfaced in fairly short order, it did little to extinguish Jack’s constantly raging libido. He tried to flirt with the younger man while they quickly went through his supply of 50-year old scotch but received only enigmatic smiles and more of that endearing dry humor that seemed to be the administrator’s trademark. The small part of Jack that might have been honorable in someone more respectable knew this interaction was simply an olive branch on Jones’ part. Something to try and soothe over the friction his betrayal with Lisa Hallet had caused to the team. And to each other. There had been some terrible exchanges that day. Jack had no regrets for his actions, but it was clear that Ianto still did. His good-natured remarks eventually turned maudlin and his flushed face began looking more to the floor or back wall than make eye contact with his superior. 

In a voice almost to low to hear, he said, “You’re not a monster.” 

Jack paused a fraction before knocking back the contents left in his glass. With the experience borne of over a hundred years of similar interactions, he knew the topic of conversation was going to turn personal. It was something he always tried to avoid at all possible costs. 

“Time to go home.” He said, jumping to his feet. The room tilted on its axis for a few seconds until he collected his bearings and grabbed his blue greatcoat. “Let’s get you topside and into a taxi.” He grabbed the younger man’s shoulders and hauled him to his feet. 

Jones stumbled against him. “Hnh. There’s that smell again.” He remarked, sniffing the collar of Jack’s coat and shifting his rheumy eyes to Jack’s own. “What’d you call it?” 

“Pheromones.” 

“Are you really from the fifty-first century? Or was that just a wind-up?” 

“It’s true,” Jack said, half-carrying half-dragging him over to the lift. “An off-world colony called the Boeshane Peninsula.” He swallowed hard at the reminder. Just saying the name of his home made a deep part of him ache. 

“How did you-“ 

His voice turned suddenly hard. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t-“  _Want to remember,_ he almost said. 

Awkward silence settled into the void and the pair ascended to the surface until they were standing in front of the water tower. Jack stepped off first, caught Ianto before he face-planted into the cobblestones, and led him from Roald Dahl Plass to nearby James Street that was bustling with traffic. He hailed a taxi in fairly short order and, after some maneuvering to get Jones settled comfortably into the back seat, he slid in beside him. “Lloyd George Avenue. Then Bute Terrace. Turn off at Mary Ann Street. House 405,” he told the driver. 

The driver tipped him a nod, started the meter and merged back into traffic. 

Ianto looked at Jack in obvious surprise. “You know where I live?” 

The older man cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m your boss. Of course I do.” He’d staked it out after he’d hired Jones. Kept an eye on the man’s activities via a few bugs situated around the flat and a covert webcam hidden in a hallway fire detector. For all of his outward charm, Jack wasn’t the trusting type. That rare distinction had to be earned. After a few weeks, the surveillance had been covertly removed because he was satisfied that Ianto was as good as his word. Then Jones had all but destroyed his reputation by squirreling away a damned cyber(wo)man in the basement of the Torchwood Institute. He and Ianto still hadn’t directly talked about the seriousness of that breach. For all of his reputed heartlessness, even Jack understood the necessity of grieving. 

As if catching that thought, Jones choked back a sob and pressed a fist to his mouth. “I didn’t know what she was. Honestly, I didn’t. You have to believe me, Jack.” 

“I do. I believe you.” 

“I know I didn’t do as you ordered. I–I couldn’t.” He made that choking sound again. “My actions got two innocent people killed. I can’t stand it-” He finally broke down and started crying. 

Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, resting his chin on the man’s head. The driver gave them a strange inquiring look in the rear view mirror and Jack passed him a hard ‘mind-your-own-business’ glare that made the man turn back to the road in a hurry. The rest of the cab ride was spent in silence with only the undercurrent of Ianto’s quiet but steady weeping. 

Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up to the front door of the brownstone. Jack paid the driver and wrestled Jones out of the backseat, dragging him to the door. He had to lightly shake the Welshman to get him to come around. “You got your keys? Because otherwise I’m just gonna kick in the door-“ 

“ _Oi!_  No, I just rent the top flat. Wait a minute.” Ianto frisked his pockets for his keys, found them, dropped them, and the pair bonked heads reaching down at the same time. “Ow.” 

“Wanker,” Jack mumbled. A term he’d picked up from his lengthy stay in Cardiff. He claimed the key ring and undid the lock, helping Ianto inside and then absently closing the door with a light kick. 

As they stumbled up the stairs, Ianto suddenly started to snicker. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“My landlord and his wife. They’re right snoops.” He managed to unlock the door to his apartment without dropping the keys this time. “They’ll be buzzing come morning that I brought home a bloke.” 

A smile broke out across Jack’s face as he pushed the door closed. Hard. He didn’t bother whispering either. “You don’t say? Let’s give them something to talk about, then.” 

“What’re you-“ Before he could finish the question, Ianto was pulled down the hallway towards his bedroom and pushed against the bed so that his knees collided with the frame and he fell backwards in a drunken sprawl. Jack was immediately on top of him, arms braced on either side of his shoulders and their faces mere inches apart. “J-Jack?” 

“Under any other circumstance I’d start kissing you right now,” the Captain muttered, eyeing the man’s flushed face with interest. Ianto was good-looking; older in appearance than he actually was due to his stiff poise and dress. He had a fair complexion with smooth skin, a straight nose, nice teeth and- 

Jack was always attracted by the eyes of humans. Their never-ending variety of colors and shapes; the silent expression of raw emotion that was like a secret language to someone who knew how to read it. Jack was well versed in that ability and what he saw shining out from Ianto’s vibrant blue eyes made him inwardly smile. He had seen a glimpse of that smothered desire after their third meeting; lying atop each other after their capture of the pterodactyl. He had felt it, too. It had been impossible not to, what with their groins pressed so closely together like that. Ianto was straight but Jack, with the experience borne of a thousand casual encounters, knew that sexuality could flip like a switch if the correct conditions were met. 

He figured it was due time to start playing around with that switch a little. 

“I love kissing,” he said in a lower, husky voice. “I like it wet and deep and hungry. Tongues and teeth working together until lips are swollen and bruised and you’re left gasping for more.” 

Ianto opened his mouth to speak and managed to croak out, “Y-you don’t say?” 

“Mm. No other race does it the way humans do. Close your eyes and you can’t hardly tell whether it’s a man or a woman on the receiving end. Not until you feel that harsh rasp of stubble against your cheek. Let me tell you, Ianto Jones, it’s a turn-on. You wouldn’t think so, not until you feel that chafing heat rubbing along your neck or moving slowly down your chest. Do you know when it feels the best?” 

Completely lost for words at this point, Jones only managed a shake of the head. 

Jack leaned forward, inhaling the man’s aftershave, and softly gusted into his ear, “It’s when I'm all the way in his mouth and I can feel the stubble on his chin rubbing against my balls. Oh, that wonderful friction. You wouldn’t believe it. It just makes me lose control, grab his head and thrust into that warmth until I cum.” He looked down at the prone form of the man trapped beneath him and flashed his trademark roguish grin. 

Ianto was left wordless and gasping. His body shivered with barely restrained lust. He knew he was hard as a rock but didn’t dare raise his head to see how badly his erection was tenting his pants because he didn’t want to call attention to it. 

Or did he? Hovering over him with his military coat draped across his back, all Ianto could smell was Jack’s attractive musk. His natural scent. It seemed to be intensified a thousand-fold in their close proximity, eclipsing rational thought already blurred by too much alcohol. 

 _Sod it,_ Ianto thought and raised his head, lips pursed, ready to be taken. 

Except Jack didn’t accept the offer. In fact, he pulled back a little. The expression on his face had changed from playful to serious. “I think I have your attention now.” 

Ianto blinked in confusion. “I... what? Jack...?” 

“Last year. The only reason you were pushing so hard to get hired at Torchwood Three was so you could use the hub’s resources to try and ‘fix’ your girlfriend wasn’t it?” 

Hardly believing the sudden change of topic, the younger man could only stare up at him in a dazed stupor. 

“Wasn’t it?” Jack ground out again from between clenched teeth. 

“Yes!” Ianto shouted back, pushing Jack away and sitting up. His pulled his coat tighter around his body and looked miserably down at the carpet. “I found her in the wreckage of Canary Wharf. Calling for me. It was Lisa. My Lisa. She was hurt and she was scared and I had to help her.” He finally looked up at the Captain and whispered, “I loved her.” 

Jack stared at him for a long appraising moment, hands in the pockets of his coat as he considered the answer. He played the act of a present day boorish Yank to perfection but had the genetics of over three thousand earth years of human evolution to his credit. As a result, he possessed a near-perfect eidetic memory. Mentally, he replayed the debacle of his and Ianto’s face-off as if reliving it all over again: Lisa, her cyberman programming overtaking her, had killed him twice, killed two civilians, threatened his staff, and –despite all that chaos- Ianto  _still_  couldn’t bring himself to so much as harm her. 

Jack finally looked away from the pathetic figure sitting on the bed and sighed.  _Love. It complicates things so much..._  He tried to remember the last time he’d fallen head over heels for anyone to such depths as Ianto had felt for his girlfriend and came up distressingly blank despite his vast memory. An image of Gwen Cooper skittered briefly across his mind but he dismissed it as a result of being drunk and horny. One state was bad enough, but both...? 

Damn it. He needed to get laid. 

“Jack?” The pall of silence was too much for Ianto to bear. “If you want me to tender my resignation, I... I’ll do it. I know that means being Retconned and maybe that’s for the best. What’s happened- What I’ve done... It hurts so much.” 

“I don’t want you to quit,” Jack finally said. He realized he meant it. “I don’t want you to forget what you’ve done, either. You don’t get off that lightly, Ianto Jones. You made a terrible mistake." He leaned forward and placed his hands gently on either side of the younger man’s pale face, staring into those beautiful blue eyes for a few seconds before planting a kiss on his forehead. “But I forgive you.” 

Ianto’s face crumpled and he started crying again, but they were tears of relief. “Thank you, Jack.” He managed to get out. 

Affectionately ruffling his short hair, Jack said, “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.” He left the apartment without looking back. 

As he walked along the side of the road, he wondered where he should go next. There wasn’t a square inch of Cardiff he didn’t know by heart after all these years. The various pubs and nightclubs (legal, underground, and some close to being other-worldly) were all committed firmly to memory. The question was, who (or what) was he in the mood to shag tonight? 

For a man born of the fifty-first century, he genuinely didn’t care one way or another. To humans, he was bisexual. To the galaxy, he was omnisexual. Personally, he just viewed his eclectic tastes as ‘opportunistic’. 

The sight of a taxi caught his peripheral vision and he flagged it down, getting into the backseat. The driver was a woman in her early thirties who had her unruly ginger hair crammed into a cap. A few tendrils had escaped and bobbed in her freckled face when she turned around to look at him. “Where are you going?” 

Jack took one look at her shining green eyes and broke out into a dazzling grin. Ignoring the question, he extended his hand between the seats and introduced himself instead. “Captain Jack Harkness. And you are...?” 

“Sofia Kasey.” 

“Nice to meet you, Sofia Kasey. What time do you get off?” 

She blinked in surprise. “Not for another hour or so.” 

Jack leaned forward and tipped the flag to start the meter. He crossed his arms on the backrest of the passenger seat and said in his most sultry tone: “Oh, I think you can get off before then.” His smile broadened knowingly. “If you’ll let me, that is. What do you say, Sofia? Care for a ride?” 

Staring back at him in amazement, the redhead finally betrayed a throaty chuckle. Her green eyes were practically sparkling in amusement and with some other, more primal, emotion. “Oh, bloody hell. Sure. Why not?” She pulled away from the curb to a destination that was more private. 

Satisfied, Jack settled back in the seat and looked out of the window.  _God, I love this planet_ , he thought fondly.

 

* * *

 


End file.
